


days of dust

by ewagan



Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 02:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20806916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewagan/pseuds/ewagan
Summary: He lives, breathes, and finds it a small miracle to wake up every day.





	days of dust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toriningen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toriningen/gifts).

I’m so eager to see you again, but I wouldn’t ask to see you. Not because I’m proud. In fact, in front of you, I cede all my pride. Yet only if you asked to see me, our meeting would be meaningful to me.

— Simone de Beauvoir, A Transatlantic Love Affair: Letters to Nelson Algren

* * *

The train snakes through Tokyo and Yusuke stares out the window sightlessly. Most days he’d be taking in the minute differences of the day to day—the shift of colours in the sky, the bloom of trees beneath and around him—but today, he is simply tired.

It creeps up on him, days like these, especially in summer and he thinks of the days spent in Leblanc's attic. He walks through the city and it feels like a lonely place, between all the back alleys and voices floating out the windows, the kind of simple happiness he used to dream of but has contented himself with not having. It is enough to have what he has, he tells himself.

Perhaps it’s supposed to be easier than this. He should be happy, he should be grateful. He has all the things he has ever wanted, or people would think he wants. And he does, really. He has friends who love him, who will come running for him. He has a promising career in art, his name already out there, if in part due to Madarame’s influence. It’s not quite like his second year of high school, struggling desperately to get by and make ends meet while being unable to create.

But he can feel it, some gaping hole inside him that threatens to consume everything, how easy it might be to slip into a place like that again. It feels like everything will slip away and it will leave him by himself, trying to figure out how to make it all work again.

It’s been two years now, and Yusuke’s getting better at being on his own. He doesn’t forget to eat, doesn’t get so lost in his work now that he cannot pull himself out. He makes friends that aren’t the other Phantom Thieves, goes to visit Sojiro at least once a month. He lives, breathes, and finds it a small miracle to wake up every day.

It doesn’t mean there aren’t bad days, or that things are easy. They’re just easier in some ways, and harder in others. Yusuke gets by—he manages, learns to take it a day at a time. He can miss Ren so much sometimes that it almost feels terminal, but he gets out of bed and goes to his classes, works around all these spaces he is still leaving for Ren to fill. It just feels like he hasn't changed at all, despite the passage of time. Still suspended, waiting for something to change.

Somewhere in all this, he garners enough attention that he’s asked to put on his own show.

_So much talent,_ they had said. He could share his work with everyone, it would attract people who are genuinely interested in his work on his own merits, not as a former student of Madarame. It sounds like everything Yusuke could ask for, as well as a chance to step away from Madarame's influence to establish himself as his own person.

It's so very easy to say yes.

* * *

It feels like a mistake, when Yusuke is really caught up in all of it. He is swamped with decisions to make, coursework to finish, paintings for the exhibition. He has no theme, his teachers are concerned about him while his classmates are envious.

It starts to feel like too much, like the days that followed Madarame's announcement of his crimes. Everyone talked, saying the right things but they only made Yusuke more anxious and worried about the outcome. It feels like it's all spiralling out of control, taking its own shape and becoming something Yusuke doesn't know how to deal with.

Haru is the one who comes to visit him, bringing with her a new plant and some vegetables from her garden. They cobble together a kind of dinner, rice and tamagoyaki and miso soup, a side salad with Haru's misshapen tomatoes and lettuce, but when she asks him if he's alright, he caves and confesses that he's very worn out by the entire process of it.

“It’s a great opportunity,” Yusuke says, swirling his soup in its bowl. He knows it is, so he wonders then why is it so hard to pull everything together, to feel grateful instead of being constantly on the verge of falling apart, or wishing that it would all go away and leave him be.

Haru takes his hands in hers and uncurls his fingers, until they are flat and limp in her smaller ones. “Just because it’s everything you should want doesn’t mean you have to want it, or that it is something you actually want.” Her smile is somewhat pained, but her hands remain gentle. “Everyone might think they know better, but only you know what you need best, and it’s not always what people think you need.”

Yusuke mulls her words over, long after she leaves him with a promise to come to his show and a fridge full of groceries.

* * *

The seasons are turning, autumn edging into winter. It makes Yusuke wonder about Ren, if his hometown is the kind to get buried under snow. But it's Ren, and Yusuke supposes he will be alright. He always manages somehow, and it's something Yusuke admires, especially now. The show is in two weeks, and there’s still so much to do. He needs to speak to the gallery manager, figure out transportation for his canvases; he still hasn’t finished painting, even. Exhibitions have always been incredibly stressful things for Yusuke, even when Madarame had been around to organise everything else if only so Yusuke could paint.

But now he’s on his own and there’s just so much _more_ to do, while his classmates all say he is so fortunate to be able to put on his own show already. Yusuke wants to scream, because he doesn’t feel lucky at all. He only feels like he’s on the verge of breaking, trying to do everything that needs to be done.

He wishes so desperately it would stop, that it would give him time to breathe and remember how to _be_. Futaba is no help here, she’s come a long way but she still clams up around strangers. Ren's not here, Ann said she’ll be back in time for his show, Haru is busy enough with her own studies. He's on his own for this, and he's so very overwhelmed right now.

He doesn't know what made him think he could do it, not when he hasn't done this on his own before. Submitting a single piece was different from having a show that focused on him, and even now Yusuke doubts the quality and the authenticity of his work. The feeling has never really left, even after all these years on his own, after all the awards and accolades he has gathered in the last few years.

But he knows about perseverance, about squaring his shoulders and facing blank canvases, about the quiet determination it takes to go on day in and day out. If he cannot trust his own talents, at least he can trust in this.

So he takes a deep breath, and gets to work.

* * *

_How are you?_

The text sits unanswered in his messages; he's still not sure how to reply yet. But he misses Ren more than he can say sometimes, that something more unresolved that hangs between them.

He could say _I'm well._ He could say _I miss you, I wish you were here._ He could say _I'm busy and stressed and overwhelmed._ He could tell Ren a multitude of things and they would all be true, but they are not necessarily the right things to say, nor would they be what Yusuke wants to say.

For all his tendency towards loquacity, Yusuke finds it difficult to properly express himself in words. So he leaves the message unanswered for now, lets his days pass in a haze of painting and classes and people.

There are the days for doubts and fears and anxiety, pulling himself together by force of will and determination. But there are also days when he just wants to lean on his friends, to let them take care of him even though it stings his pride to do so. He wants Ann's concern and Haru's kindness, Ryuji's awkward laughter and Futaba's teasing, Morgana's chiding and Makoto's fond exasperation. And Ren. Ren's presence, quiet and reassuring, knowing how best to believe in Yusuke when he finds it difficult to believe in himself.

They have seen the best and worst of him and still they are here for him, but he has always thought that Ren saw him clearer than most. Yusuke is hardly difficult to read, and he knows it. He has always found it difficult to be disingenuous or dishonest, and it shows in his art, in the way he carries himself.

But if there is anything he is learning, has been learning in these passing years, it is to be more careful, more deliberate in his actions. To consider when and how before he does something, to convey himself better in all that he does. It doesn't always work out, but he has made his peace with that, just as he has made his peace with the possibility of Ren becoming little more than a fond memory, a part of his life that shaped him, that he will remember and forget in turn.

He can still hope, and wait. In the waiting, keep moving.

So when he is ready, he sends Ren a picture of a flyer, a message of three words.

_Will you come?_

* * *

The show opens and the reviews are kind, the critics grudgingly admiring. Despite the fact Madarame was declared a fraud, his reputation had been in tatters at the end, it's still enough to draw people—those curious to see if Yusuke was like Madarame, to see if he had any talent of his own. There are far more people interested in the former student of Madarame that Yusuke would have thought possible, despite having stood at Madarame’s side for years, his own pieces on display under a false name. It's rather gratifying to be properly credited and acknowledged.

Ann sweeps in for his opening with a box of chocolates and effusive praise, Haru follows more modestly with Makoto, sincere in their congratulations and admiration as he shows them his work. Ryuji is awkward and uncomfortable but he comes, and Yusuke appreciates the gesture, though he's not above teasing Ryuji about the first time he had come to a gallery. There are constant interruptions as he's introduced to yet another person, as he thanks them for coming and talks about his work.

He's only really looking for one person though, amidst all the people who have come. But while hopeful, Yusuke isn't expecting it. So when he pauses to catch his breath, he's not expecting to find someone right behind him.

_Ren._

He smiles, shy and quiet and it makes Yusuke feels like he's on the verge of tears.

"Hi," he says. And Yusuke smiles, wobbly and uncertain as he reaches a hand out. But Ren's hand is there as it always is, waiting and open for him to take.

* * *

They all pile into one booth like they used to, too many arms and legs amidst Morgana's insistent demands to be included. Yusuke rarely feels as right as he does here, in between all of them, struggling to make his long limbs _fit,_ but there is always room for him somehow. Sojiro makes them coffee while they all chatter, conversation flying around him. Ryuji and Morgana snipe at each other while Ann tries to mediate them, Haru smiling as Futaba chatters her ear off and Makoto sighing at Ryuji and Morgana. Ren is more a spectator, occasional quips here and there while Yusuke is happy to watch now, to simply be here and bask in this.

It doesn't stop Futaba from eventually climbing over the table to yell in his face _where have you been you stupid inari_, from throwing herself at Ren in a hug and forcing herself between the two of them. It's a tight squeeze, but she has both their hands in hers, and he wonders how lonely she must have been, with all of them so busy. The rest of them laugh and fall back into conversation, discussing plans for dinner later that weekend, a proper one to celebrate Yusuke's show.

Ren smiles over Futaba's head at him, and he smiles back.

* * *

“I wasn’t sure you would come,” Yusuke says later, when people have made their excuses. Futaba had kidnapped Morgana with the promise of sushi, Ann had an early morning and Ryuji promised to make dinner, while Haru and Makoto still had coursework to complete for their classes. Sojiro eyed Ren and handed him the keys, reminding him to lock up properly. It leaves Yusuke alone with Ren, much like the way they used to be on the nights Yusuke came by.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Ren smiles, reaching to refill Yusuke’s cup. 

“Thank you,” he says at last. _For the coffee, for coming, for still being here, for always doing more than I expect._ He’s not sure which he means, but he is grateful for Ren’s presence in his life. It feels much simpler to do this instead, to open his hand and reach for Ren's, to feel Ren's hand curl around his. 

A reassurance, a light in the darkness, someone reaching back.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, kudos and comments appreciated. <3


End file.
